Origins
by Freckles04
Summary: Aedan Cousland is thrown onto a path he had not expected by the Blight, and then by Howe's treachery. Confronted by violence and death, he is forced into a duty he never wanted, a life he hadn't chosen for himself. Originally posted on Warden's Vigil.
1. Chapter 1

(A/N: This is a retelling of the events of the Fall of Highever, from the perspective of the Aedan Cousland I play on Warden's Vigil. In the WV timeline, these events occurred in August, 9:29 Dragon. As always, many thanks to Bioware for encouraging community creations.)

"Milord Aedan! Milord Aedan!"

Aedan raised his head from the book on Qunari tactics he was reading, but otherwise didn't move from his comfortable position in the library. His feet were propped on a second chair he'd pulled up, one knee crooked upward. He hadn't any duties to see to today, even though the castle was abuzz with energy as the troops prepared to set out and the servants tried to keep up with all the new bodies requiring food and places to rest, and entertainment as well. The energy flowed around Aedan's head, more of an annoyance than anything because it didn't include him.

Highever was marching to war, and Aedan still didn't know if he was going or not.

He gave the page a flash of a smile and let his book fall to his lap. "What is it, lad?"

"The Teyrn..." The page paused for breath, his tiny frame heaving with the effort. "Requests your presence. In the Great Hall."

_Finally. About Maker-damned time._"Thank you. Off with you to the kitchen, then. Nan's likely got a treat for you."

The page sketched a quick bow, then went racing off again. Aedan spared a thought about what he'd been like at that age, and decided that he had never moved quite that quickly. Iain MacKinnon might have; his friend rarely stayed still for any length of time.

He pushed to his feet, trying to calm the excitement that threatened to break loose. No doubt Da had summoned him to share what his assignment would be as they marched to Ostagar. Aedan suspected the task was not going to be an enjoyable one—why hesitate in sharing it, if that wasn't the case?—but truthfully, at this moment he didn't care. Maybe he would, once he was in the thick of it, but right now, all that mattered was that he was going to march with his brother and father. The Couslands, off to battle, against the world's greatest threat: the darkspawn. Aedan wasn't an idiot over heroic tales, but even he could appreciate the significance of it.

Aedan tried to keep from trotting down the hall and just barely managed to keep his pace sedate. When he pushed open the door, he was greeted by the sight of soldiers, and his father, and another nobleman, as well. His steps faltered for just an instant before he moved into the Hall.

Bryce Cousland smiled at Aedan as he approached. "I'm sorry, pup. I didn't see you there."

Aedan tried not to roll his eyes at the nickname. He knew his father meant nothing by it, but Maker's breath. He was nearly twenty-two years of age! The pet term had been fine when he was just a lad, but those days were long gone.

"That might be because I just got here, Da." Aedan chuckled at the mock scowl Bryce sent his way, a wide smile creasing his features. "You wanted to see me?"

Bryce gave him a bit of an eyeroll before turning to the Arl standing at his side. Aedan had always thought that his father's friend was a bit unfortunate in the looks department, but he was a true ally to the Couslands and one of Bryce's oldest comrades. And Aedan knew his place. Joking with his family and friends was one thing, but Rendon Howe's title demanded more respect than that.

"You remember my son, Aedan?"

"I see he's grown into a fine young man." Arl Howe's voice was gravelly and nasally at the same time, no doubt due to the generous honker that sat astride his face. "Pleased to see you again, lad."

"And you, my lord." Aedan inclined his head, just a bit.

A glint entered the Arl's eyes, one Aedan was all too used to seeing in fathers of noble daughters. The second son of Teyrn Bryce Cousland was quite the catch, considering he was the last young and eligible bachelor of the upper echelon of nobility. He inhaled deeply, trying not to show it, as his eyes flicked to his father. Bryce's expression hadn't changed—it was still a gentle smile—but his eyes carried a message all their own, another silent missive Aedan had received more than once.

Behave.

"My daughter Delilah asked after you," Arl Howe continued, unsurprisingly. "Perhaps I should bring her next time."

Aedan gritted his teeth for a moment. Delilah Howe was a nice enough looking young woman, but she was _young_. The Arl wasn't suggesting a dalliance; he was suggesting marriage, and Aedan had no desire to fasten himself to any one woman just yet. He was no Chantry brother and definitely _not_in the market for a wife. His gaze drifted to his father again, and that wordless message was ever clearer.

_Behave_.

_Flames._

"I'd...like that, my lord." If the Arl noticed the stilted nature of Aedan's words he didn't point it out. Maker, he just hoped he hadn't stumbled into a verbal contract with that statement. If he did, he'd make sure his father never heard the end of it.

"Good." The Arl grinned, and Aedan's stomach dropped. Yes, he would have to plan to be away...doing something...when Rendon Howe returned with his daughter. "She goes on about your prowess as a warrior." His voice lowered conspiratorially. "I think you have an admirer, young man."

_Oh...wonderful._

"At any rate, pup, I summoned you for a reason." Aedan could almost forgive his father the nickname this time. Getting on with business meant they wouldn't have to speak of his potential romantic pursuits any longer. "While your brother and I are both away, I'm leaving you in charge of the castle."

Aedan's stomach dropped. He'd suspected that he wouldn't like the task Da had for him, but this? Staying behind? Running the castle? That wasn't what he wanted. He'd trained for years to fight, and he was damned good at it, too.

And Fergus, once again, going off on an adventure without him. Damn it. When was it going to be his turn, hm? When was he going to get a chance to really see the world beyond Highever? Flames, even _Finny_was going. Iain had been in a funk ever since the news dropped.

It wasn't fair. He didn't care about the castle. He wanted to be on the battlefield.

"Why can't I go with you and Fergus?" His voice was more than a little petulant, and for a moment he forgot that it wasn't just him and his father standing in the Great Hall.

"I'm certain you'd more than prove yourself, but I am not willing to deal with your mother if you join the war." Da's lips twisted, no doubt imagining Mum's very vocal objections. "She'd kill me if I let you go. She's already twisted into knots about Fergus and me going."

"Right. So I get to stay here. Again." Aedan's eyes narrowed, and his fists clenched at his sides. "I don't care about the Maker-damned castle. I want to fight!"

Bryce's eyes grew cold. Aedan knew what that meant: he'd be in for a verbal lashing later, once the Arl had frittered off to do whatever it was he was going to do. When he spoke, though, Da's voice was even. "You'll have your chance soon enough. This is no needless task. I ask you to take a great responsibility."

But it wasn't the responsibility Aedan wanted! Couldn't he see that? Fergus was set to inherit the teyrnir; let _him_stay and run the castle, damn it.

"Only a token force is remaining here, and you must keep the peace in the region. You know what they say about mice when the cat is away, yes?"

They get pissed off and lead a rebellion? Really, the teyrnir of Highever was probably one of the most peaceful regions in Ferelden. This was a useless task. Useless! Mother was staying—she was Teyrna, let her do it!

Before Aedan could draw a breath to voice that opinion, Bryce continued. "There's also someone you must meet. Please, show Duncan in."

The closest guard saluted, and a moment later, a strangely armored, dark-skinned man joined the group of noblemen. Aedan took in the ponytail, beard and earring—really? Who wore such an adornment on the battlefield? A scowl darkened Aedan's features. So, not only babysitting the castle, but babysitting a foreign dignitary too. How absolutely flaming _brilliant_.

"It is an honor to be a guest within your hall, Teyrn Cousland," the man said with a bow. His voice had a bit of an accent, but nothing Aedan could place. Though he looked Rivaini, he sounded more Fereldan than that. It was rather an odd mix, one that Aedan couldn't quite figure out.

Arl Howe seemed to recognize this Duncan right away, however, and a look of vast surprise flickered over his face, before it was calmed. "Your Lordship, you didn't mention that a Grey Warden would be present."

A Grey Warden? Aedan looked at the dark-skinned man again. He knew a bit about the Wardens—who didn't, really—and all the tales he'd heard spoke of the Wardens' phenomenal prowess in battle. They were the best of the best, warriors without equal. This man, this_Duncan_, though...Aedan was not impressed.

Bryce frowned at the Arl, just the barest twitch of his brow, but Aedan could tell the comment had taken him by surprise. "Duncan arrived just recently, unannounced. Is there a problem?"

Howe inclined his head, the picture of subservient vassal. "Of course not, but a guest of this stature demands certain protocol. I am...at a disadvantage."

What protocol? If Duncan wasn't a titled noble, then he was, at best, on the same level as a knight. An Arl or a Teyrn outranked him. Yes, the Grey Wardens were a much-needed fighting force, but they were little better than a troupe of mercenaries. Instead of men, though, their targets were darkspawn. So, really, what Maker-damned protocol was needed?

"We rarely have the pleasure of seeing one in person, that's true," Bryce said to Howe. Once more, his chilly light gaze took in Aedan. "Pup, Brother Aldous taught you who the Grey Wardens are, I hope?"

"Is there a reason I should care?" The words escaped Aedan before he could think better of it, and he winced as temper flashed across Da's face.

"Maker's breath, Aedan! Mind your manners!" If they'd been alone, Aedan knew he would've likely gotten a sharp cuff across the back of his head to go along with that admonishment.

Duncan's face, however, remained expressionless. "It is all right, Teyrn Cousland. The order is not what it once was—"

"I'll not have the Wardens spoken ill of in my household." Da's temper was smoldering now, and Aedan found his own rising to match it. "Without them, the darkspawn would have killed us all in the first Blight. They are the only reason men still live in Thedas."

Well, perhaps they should have a parade, then. Aedan didn't particularly like the childish tone of his thoughts, but he decided it didn't really matter. His father thought him little better than a boy; that was obvious. Why else would he exclude him from the fighting force?

Bryce took a breath, then continued, his tone somewhat calmer than it had been. "Duncan is looking for recruits before joining us and his fellow Wardens in the south. I believe he's got his eye on Ser Gilmore."

Rory? Wonderful. Something more to inflate the knight's head.

Was that the slightest half-grin that curved the Grey Warden's lips? "If I might be so bold, I would suggest that your son is also an excellent candidate," he said, nodding in Aedan's direction.

Aedan perked up at that. Oh, really? He hadn't much use for the Wardens, but all the tales agreed that they only recruited the most skilled. He cast a glance at his father, waiting to see if this statement would have any impact on Bryce's decision that Aedan should look after the castle. If the sodding _Wardens_thought he would be a worthwhile recruit, surely that would tell Da that he belonged with the army?

Bryce, however, stepped in front of Aedan, blocking him from Duncan as one might protect a child from a rushing bear. Aedan's teeth and fists clenched at the belief implied by his father's action: that he was nothing more than a boy, needing to be guarded.

"Honor though that might be," Da said, "this is one of my sons we're talking about."

Aedan stared at his father's back, seething. "Perhaps _that_would get me into battle," he muttered.

"That discussion is closed." Bryce's reprimand was sharp and instantaneous.

Support for the idea of Aedan as a Grey Warden came from an unlikely source—Arl Howe. "You did just finish saying that Grey Wardens are heroes, old friend." His voice held humor, as if he enjoyed poking holes in Bryce's words. Aedan wasn't quite sure he appreciated that, but he didn't mind the idea behind the prodding.

"I've not so many children that I'll gladly see them all of to battle," Da said to Howe. Then he turned his attention back to Duncan. "Unless you intend to invoke the Right of Conscription...?"

Duncan smiled and shook his head. "Have no fear. While we need as many good recruits as we can find, I've no intention of forcing the issue."

Da turned to Aedan. "Pup, can you ensure that Duncan's requests are seen to while I'm gone?"

He might not be a foreign dignitary as Aedan had first supposed, but the duties were the same. Babysitting. He gritted his teeth. "Don't strain my abilities or anything."

"And don't strain my patience!" Bryce snapped. "In the meantime, find Fergus and tell him to lead the troops to Ostagar ahead of me."

"So that's it? You're trying to get rid of me?"

"We must discuss the battle plans in the south."

Aedan mollified his tone as his father's eyes glittered with temper once more. "But Da, I can help! You know I'm good with strategy. Maybe I can see something you won't. A fresh look. Please—"

Bryce deliberately turned his eyes away then, and Aedan knew his pleas would not be answered in the way he wished. "Be a good lad and do as I've asked." His eyes flicked back to his son. "We'll...talk soon."

_Talk_. Right. It would likely include a reprimand for his attitude and declarations of disappointment. Aedan had heard it all before, usually when he'd been caught carrying out one of his pranks against Jenna Kincade. Which hadn't happened in years, he wanted to point out. Never mind that he hadn't seen her since they were eighteen.

But this was different. He could make a difference, damn it! Why didn't his father see it? Why was he being made to stay behind...again? It was unfair. It was so blasted unfair that not only was Fergus going to fight at their father's side, he was going to lead the troops in his father's absence. Why not let Fergus stay home with his family instead? Aedan was sure Oren would rather have his da in the castle than his uncle.

It just didn't make any Maker-damned sense. But he was smart enough to know that arguing about it, now, wouldn't make a difference.

"Fine." The word was filled with contempt, but he couldn't mask it. Let Da know he wasn't happy; what did he care? He was just the castle's caretaker, no one important.

He turned on his heel and strode from the room, off to find his brother like a good lad.


	2. Chapter 2

Aedan marched down the open-air corridor, hardly in a mood to appreciate the late-summer sun beating down on him. It was bright, and cheery, and everything he was not, at the moment. Anger and resentment surged through him, and he did little to stop their rampage.

When Ser Rory Gilmore stepped into his path, Aedan nearly sidestepped the knight to continue on his way, but Gilmore held out a gauntleted hand. "There you are! Your mother told me the teyrn had summoned you, so I didn't want to interrupt."

Aedan's lips pressed into a thin line. Really, this day was just getting better. "Why are you looking for me?" he demanded of the knight who was once his friend. Since that encounter a few years back in the sparring field, after Rory had been less than kind about two of the Kincade sisters, he and Aedan had given each other a wide berth, unless they had no choice.

"I fear your hound has the kitchens in uproar once again," Rory told him with a bit of a smirk. "Nan is threatening to leave."

Maker's ass. "So why look for me? Do something."

"You know how mabari hounds are. They listen only to their master; anyone else risks having an arm bitten off."

Aedan eyed Rory's full set of armor and a less-than-charitable comment rose to his lips, but he didn't voice it. Poking and prodding Gilmore wouldn't do anything except possibly trigger a fistfight, and as much as it might help relieve some of the anger boiling within him, Aedan knew it wouldn't help matters with his father at all. He sighed. "Then I guess I should collect him."

"That would be wise. Before Nan tears down the walls."

_Smug prick._

"Shall we?"

Aedan closed his eyes briefly. He really did not want to suffer the knight's presence any more than he had to. "I don't need you to follow me around, Gilmore. I think I can find my way to the kitchen, thank you."

"Your mother was quite insistent," the knight said. "And I fear her more than you."

Well, to be honest, he'd have to be an idiot not to. Eleanor Cousland was a kind woman and a loving mother, but she expected a great deal from everyone within her castle. The servants, the guards and knights, and her children, alike, had expectations they must adhere to. Aedan and Fergus had challenged her more than once over the years, and she'd never hesitated in letting them know when they'd gone too far.

"Fine," Aedan grumbled. He took a step in the direction of the kitchen.

Rory stopped him with a hesitant hand on his arm, quickly removed. "Err...before we go, my lord, might I beg a question?"

_So help me Maker, if he asks what I'll be doing on the march to Ostagar..._

"I've heard from several people that a Grey Warden is here. Is that true?"

Aedan didn't bother to resist the urge to roll his eyes. "Yes, it is," he said, his voice lacking any enthusiasm.

"Then..." Gilmore paused, and Aedan could practically feel the both the nerves and eagerness radiating from the man. "Is it also true this Grey Warden was asking after me?"

Oh, the desire to lie was great. Aedan's pissy mood encouraged him to dash the knight's hopes as thoroughly as possible, just as his own hopes had been beaten to a bloody pulp by his father's decree that he would stay and watch over the castle instead of accompany the army to Ostagar. But Aedan was not a mean-spirited sort, even for all his current dismay.

"He intends to test you for recruitment," he admitted, his tone less than generous. But at least he didn't lie.

"Maker's breath! Are you certain?" Rory's face lit up, his green eyes sparkling. "Can you imagine? Me? A Grey Warden? It would be everything I'd dreamed of!"

"Yes. Wonderful." At least it would get him out of Highever.

Aedan's lack of enthusiasm seemed to douse the knight's joyous mood, and his tone grew more serious. "Of course, I shouldn't get ahead of myself. Pardon my outburst."

Aedan blew out a breath, suddenly a bit ashamed of himself. Who was he to trod on another man's happiness, right? "It's fine," he assured the knight. "It's great news." He waved at the hall, indicating that they should begin the short journey to the kitchens. "Tell me, do you know much about the Grey Wardens?"

"Only what everyone hears," Gilmore said, falling into step beside Aedan. "I never expected to actually see one. So few of them are here in Ferelden."

Right, because some two hundred years ago, they'd tried to overthrow the king, or so Aedan remembered vaguely from his studies. King Maric had reinstated the order about twenty years ago. Despite his ill-tempered response to his father earlier, Brother Aldous had indeed taught Aedan about the Grey Wardens. A little, anyway.

"Do you think the Wardens are as skilled as the legends say?" Now _that_Aedan wasn't sure about. Some of the tales he read had one Warden taking on dozens of darkspawn, which seemed quite outlandish, to be honest.

Gilmore shrugged, his armor clanking. "I hear they only recruit the most skilled. It'd be disappointing if that wasn't true."

"I suppose," Aedan agreed.

They continued on in silence for a few moments, then the knight spoke up. "And what about you, my lord? What if this Grey Warden tries to recruit you?"

Aedan cast a sidelong glance at the knight. "He mentioned it. Da was quick to quash that idea."

Gilmore nodded, not surprised by either the mention of recruitment, or the fact that the Teyrn had nipped it quickly. "It's a shame, though. You've as much skill as any of the knights in your father's service, if not more. I suspect you'd be the type the Wardens would definitely be interested in."

Aedan's steps faltered and he came to a halt. "Rory, I believe that is the first compliment you've ever paid me."

"Well, any more and your overinflated head would float away." The knight snorted. "Besides, you know you're talented. You don't need some minor noble's son telling you that."

"Maybe not." Aedan arched a brow, then continued walking.

His father's decision to keep him in Highever burned even more fiercely now, knowing that his talent had been recognized by others. What would they think when Fergus rode off tonight, and then Da left tomorrow, and Aedan remained behind?


	3. Chapter 3

(A/N: Iain MacKinnon, mentioned in this chapter, is played by Sisimka on Warden's Vigil. The story of Iain's return to Ferelden and Highever is called "This is Home" and is included on her page.)

Over the course of the day, after talking with Mum and Fergus, Aedan began to wonder if Da really had intended his assignment of running the castle and the teyrnir as some type of reward. Fergus had been his usual upbeat self to help buoy Oriana and Oren's spirits, but Aedan had seen the shadows lurking in his eyes, the worry. It had become even more apparent when Sogs had turned to him and asked him directly to take care of his family.

Fergus was the knights' leader; he _had_to go. But he and Da needed someone they could trust to see to the safety of the teyrnir. Some of Aedan's black mood began to wash away...

Until Da ordered him to bed like a child. Then reality set in.

He went. More arguing wouldn't do anyone any good, and he didn't want Fergus's farewell to be sullied by it. He gave his brother one last hug, a whispered "Be safe", and then made sure his smile was bright and unworried, for his nephew's sake.

He lay awake for a long time, though, listening to the sounds—or lack thereof—filtering through his heavy wood door. The castle had been full to bursting for the last week or so, but now silence descended. There was the occasional murmur, a laugh, a shout; nothing out of place and simple indicators that although the castle might be quieter than it had been in awhile, it was still inhabited. Sleep evaded him for long enough that he started to wonder if he _should_ have pursued a dalliance with Lady Landra's elven maid...if nothing else, it would have been a welcome distraction. It would have also gone against his personal rule of no one-night-stands, enjoyable as it might have been.

He hadn't realized he'd fallen asleep until he jerked awake. His heart thudded against his breastbone as Aedan tried to determine what had jolted him. A dream? No, not unless Nu had somehow sensed it. The mabari growled at the door, the sound low and unending. A chill shot down Aedan's spine as he pushed himself out of bed, pulling on a light pair of pants and a tunic without really looking at them.

"What is it?" He kept his voice down. Trepidation rolled through him, though he couldn't pinpoint the source beyond the eerie rumble emanating from his hound. As much as he wanted to shrug off Nu's growl as a silly canine whim, he couldn't. Nu was a mabari, a warhound, and he would not make such a warning noise without a reason.

A shout from beyond the door. Aedan tensed. This deep into the quiet hours between midnight and dawn, such a noise was so very out of place...

His door burst open, Northrop, a servant, wild-eyed on the other side. "My lord Aedan! They're attacking! They're—"

He grunted, then stared down at the arrowhead protruding through his chest. A gurgle left his lips and he crumpled to the floor, blood pooling about his body.

Aedan stared for a moment, frozen. This couldn't be...attackers in the castle? Why? Who?

The sound of Nu leaping into battle yanked Aedan from the shock at seeing the death of the servant. He'd gone on hunts before, he'd seen creatures die—but never a man he'd known, who'd worked for his family for as long as he could remember. An arrow through his open door, embedding in one of the bedposts. Aedan barely spared it a glance before reaching for his sword and dagger and leaping into the fray.

Furious. Intense. Unending. Aedan had hardly a moment to think or plan his movements, relying instead on instinct honed by a decade of practice and teaching. For a moment, he wished he'd picked up his shield instead; it would have made more sense to fight with it, seeing as he was unarmored. But he wielded his dagger like an extension of his arm, and after a few parried strikes, he couldn't imagine fighting in any other fashion.

It seemed like both seconds and hours before the three opponents lay crumpled around him. Nu huffed, growled, and then nudged Aedan's leg, letting out a little whine, as though he were checking on his master.

"I'm okay," he assured the mabari. And he was. Mostly. One of the rogues' daggers had scored a line across his chest. Not a deep cut, but it stung all the same, and it made him wince, now that the battle was over, the rush of fighting dying off.

No time to rest or tend it, though. He had to get to his parents' room. Their door had remained shut for the duration of the battle, and Aedan didn't know if that meant that they were not inside, or if they'd barred it, or...

_No, Soap. Don't even think that..._

He strode down the hall, hand outstretched for the door as he grew closer. Before he reached it, however, it popped open and his mother appeared, fully armored in heavy chainmail. He'd known she was trained as a warrior, but even so...seeing her was something else.

"Maker's breath!" She leapt forward, her hands immediately seeking out his hurts. "That can't all be your blood."

"No, it isn't," he said. "Well, some of it. Are you all right?"

"They never made it through the door. I barred it when I heard the fighting. What in the Fade is going on?"

"Howe's men." The revelation left his throat reluctantly. He hadn't wanted to believe it, but the crests on the attackers' armor and weaponry left no doubt. "He thinks to attack while the army is away."

Mum's eyes grew wide and they shifted beyond his shoulder to the bodies laying behind him. "Why would he do such a thing?" she breathed. She sucked in a breath, horror crossing her face. "And what about your father? He never came to bed!"

Da...no, oh flames, no. "He was staying up to plan with the Arl, wasn't he?" _Please, Maker, I'll do whatever you ask..._

"Do you think..." She didn't finish the question. The realization swept over her, and Aedan held out his hands, prepared to catch her if her knees gave out. Her spine straightened, however, cold steel entering her gaze. "I'll cut that lying bastard's throat myself."

_Not if I get to him first._"Let's get Oriana and Oren and find Da."

"Right."

Eleanor led the way over to Fergus's quarters and knocked brusquely. "Oriana, love, it's Aedan and Mum. It's safe." She pushed the door open.

Aedan darted forward but he was too late to catch her as she buckled. His heart jumped into his throat, knowing before he saw the interior of the room what would greet him.

They'd gone into Fergus's quarters first. Easy prey. Kill the unarmed woman and her five-year-old son, make sure they can't raise the alarm. Aedan's gaze took in the blood, the wounds, the haphazardly askew limbs, and something inside of him just stopped. He couldn't mourn now. He couldn't grieve. It would come later, he knew, but now...now he had to get Mum out. Find Da. He couldn't break, he couldn't cry, he couldn't scream...

Mum sobbed quietly, crouched on her hands and knees. The blood oozed toward her fingertips, but she didn't flinch away. A wail escaped her, unintelligible, a combination of denial and anger that Aedan felt but couldn't let himself feel.

"Oren!" Aedan's hand found his mother's back, rubbing her shoulder blades ineffectually. It was all he could do and it was _nothing_. "No, Oren, my little boy. Why? Why is Howe _doing_ this? He's not even taking hostages!"

"I don't know," Aedan choked out. His jaw clenched, the muscles flexing, as he held himself rigidly, barely, under control. "He'll pay, Mum. He'll pay."

"Poor Fergus." Her head drooped. Aedan thought for a moment that he was going to have to nudge her to move. They couldn't stay here; Maker knew if more of Howe's men were heading in their direction even now. But Eleanor pushed back onto her knees, swiping the back of her hand over her nose and eyes quickly, the movements efficient. "Damned right he'll pay. We'll make sure of that. Come, let's find your father."

She paused as she reached her feet, her eyes heavy as they took in the bodies of her daughter-in-law and grandson once more. "I'm so sorry," she whispered.

"We need to go," Aedan said gently.

"Right." She sniffled loudly, then turned to face him. "Go get your armor on. Nu and I will hold off anyone who approaches." She readied her bow and stepped into the main hall, an arrow notched.

On impulse, Aedan leaned in and pressed a kiss to her cheek. "We'll get through this."

As he moved back into his room to fetch his armor, he caught her voice behind him, soft and uncertain. "I hope so."

Some small part of Aedan was stunned at how quickly he became accustomed to the sight of blood. After the first few guards fell to his blades or his mother's arrows, he almost ceased to see the bodies. So many dead littered the corridors. Invaders, but servants and guards, too…people he'd seen on a daily basis, lived with, worked with, all gone.

They didn't find Da. With each body they passed that was not the Teyrn's, twin prongs of hope and dread entwined in Aedan's chest. He needed to find his father, he needed to _know_…

They managed to fight their way to the Great Hall, where they found Gilmore and a company of guards holding the gates against the full force of the intruders. The ones who had gotten into the castle must have been an advance group, meant to cause chaos and weaken from within. In that, they'd succeeded: lighting fires, murdering indiscriminately. Smoke filled the halls, burning eyes and rasping in throats, making it difficult to see who was friend and who was foe.

"Your ladyship! My lord!" Gilmore ran up to them as the fighting ebbed. "Thank the Maker you're alive. I'd feared Howe's men had gotten through."

"They did," Aedan said. He looked at the floor for a moment, remembering the lifeless bodies of his nephew and sister-in-law. Would he ever forget the sight? In the next breath, he looked up again, and decided no. He'd remember.

"They killed Oren and Oriana," Mum reported, her eyes cast downward.

"Maker's mercy." Gilmore's mouth worked for a moment, and Aedan wondered if he would offer platitudes or apologies, but the man seemed to recognize that now was not the time. They couldn't mourn now. Aedan's respect for the knight increased a notch.

"Have you seen my father?" Aedan asked.

Gilmore's expression fell, and Aedan braced himself. Bad news, it was going to be bad news…

"The last I saw the Teyrn, he'd been gravely injured. I begged him to stay here, but I think he thought to find you at the servants' exit in the larder." He cast a glance back at the gate, which shuddered under a renewed onslaught. "You must hurry. We won't be able to hold them for long."

Aedan stared at Gilmore, a realization washing over him. His eyes met the red-haired knight's, and he saw the understanding there. This was a suicide mission. Gilmore did not expect to walk out of the Great Hall again.

"Flames, Rory…" Aedan's voice choked. They might have had a falling out a few years back, and things hadn't been easy between them, but Gilmore was still a man he'd grown up with, he'd sparred with, trained with, and Maker's _ass_, he was going to die here for his family.

"Go, Soap." Gilmore patted a hand on the epaulet of Aedan's armor. "Find the teyrn. Make sure that Howe doesn't win."

Aedan just nodded, not trusting his voice. Gilmore gave him a weak smile, then turned back to the men barricading the door. "Hold it, lads! We won't let these bastards in, not while we stand!"

"Thank you, Ser Gilmore," Mum said quietly. "Maker watch over you."

Rory dipped his head, in acknowledgment of her words, and, perhaps, the fate that awaited him. "Maker watch over us all."

Aedan stared at the back of the retreating knight, unable to move, until he felt a tug on his hand. "We need to go, son," Eleanor said gently.

"But, Mum…"

She nodded, swallowing. "I know. We can't let his sacrifice be in vain, however."

Aedan clenched his jaw, his teeth grinding together. After a moment, he nodded, reluctantly, and let his mother lead him back into the hall. He'd add Rory Gilmore's name to the list of those for whom Rendon Howe had to pay.

The smoke had gotten thicker while they'd been inside the Great Hall. Aedan's eyes watered. It rasped against his throat, making every breath feel like razors sliced into his esophagus. The walls rang with the sounds of battle, some near, some far, echoes of lives being lost to the enemy.

With most of the army gone to Ostagar, they couldn't stand against this. Aedan hadn't wanted to believe it, but with every thrust of his sword through armor, every parry with his dagger, it became more clear.

Highever would fall. And if they didn't get out, the Couslands would as well.

The enemy knight he'd been battling crumpled, succumbing to the sword that had sneaked through an opening in his stance. Aedan took a moment to catch his breath, scanning the scene for another opponent. The Highever guard who had accompanied him and Mum from the Great Hall lay on his side, eyes open and empty. Damn it. Aedan turned his gaze away, seeking out his mother. Blood splattered across Eleanor's fair skin and grey hair, black in the flickering light of the fire nearby. A gash marred her temple, but other than that, she seemed whole.

"Are you all right?" Aedan kept his weapons unsheathed, but shifted his sword to his off-hand with his dagger so he could reach out gauntleted fingers to his mother's face.

"I'm fine, it's nothing." She ducked her head away, then scrutinized his face. "And you?"

"Nothing serious." Bruises, aches, pains, maybe a cut or two, but no injury that would prevent him from moving forward.

Eleanor's eyes rested on the dead guard for a few breaths, then closed, the emotions she felt visible plainly on her face. She allowed herself no more than a moment of weakness, however, before she opened her eyes again and nodded.

Sword back in his main hand, Aedan automatically scanned the area. Fire and debris blocked the route they would normally take to the larder, and beyond—

He caught a flash of blond hair, darkened by sweat, soot, and other things, but still unmistakably blond. Iain. Of course Inky would be fighting. Aedan took a step toward the blockade, determined that he would get around it somehow, he would help his friend. Fergus might be his brother by blood, but Iain was his brother by choice, damn it, and he couldn't just…

"Aedan…"

"It's Iain, Mum," he said, shrugging off the hand on his elbow. "We have to…"

His voice trailed off as he realized the futility. Debris blocked the hall completely; Aedan couldn't even get that close to it, pushed back by the heat emanating from the flames. But Iain needed him. The squire's chestplate gaped, wetness evident beneath. His face was barely recognizable; if Aedan hadn't trained with him on a daily basis for more than half his life, he probably wouldn't have even known it was him. A broken-shafted arrow protruded from his shoulder, embedded in the joint between the back armor and the arm. His shield was gone, one of his gauntlets was gone, and still he bashed his fist into an enemy guard relentlessly.

They had to get around the Maker-damned block! He couldn't abandon Inky, he couldn't—

Aedan didn't see the arrow, only the archer preparing another shot out of the corner of his eye. What he saw was Inky reel backwards, his balance gone, and crash into the wall.

"IAIN!" The cry leapt from Aedan's throat without thought. No, no, no, not Inky, not Inky, not Inky, you flaming prick of a god!

"Aedan, we can't—" Eleanor's voice choked to a stop. "They've seen us, son. We have to go."

Aedan tore his gaze from Inky's body to see the Howe guards eyeing them, judging whether they could get through the barrier. With a gesture and a shout, they headed off in another direction, no doubt to try to cut them off.

"Mum…" His voice came out in a whine as he looked at Iain's body again. "We can't just leave him…"

"Aedan, listen." Eleanor put her hands on either of his cheeks and forced his eyes to hers. "We have to. He gave his life defending us. We need to make sure that it wasn't for nothing. Just like Gilmore, just like Davis," she said, nodding at the guard who lay near them. "Honor him by living."

He fought against her hands for a moment to look at Inky again. The squire hadn't moved, not that he'd expected him to. He was dead. Like Oriana, like Oren, like countless others that Howe had murdered. He wanted to deny what his eyes told him. Maker, he wanted to scream about the unfairness, about how this had to be the Fade, it couldn't be real…

He didn't.

Maker guide you to his side, Iain MacKinnon. He blinked away tears. There wasn't time for that, just like there wouldn't be time to give his friend, his brother, a proper send-off. I'm sorry.

He looked at Mum again, and nodded, and they started once more for the larder.


	4. Chapter 4

Once, when they'd been very small, he and Fergus had stumbled into a section of the castle that wasn't used often. It had been set aside for storage, perhaps; Aedan had been too young to think to ask. All he knew was that he was an _explorer_, following his intrepid brother into the heart of some Tevinter ruin. Would they run into giant spiders? Undead monsters? Ghosts?

The darkened corridor leading to the pantry reminded him of that section. If he pushed aside the distant screams, the yells, the sounds of people fighting and dying; if he ignored the flickering light of the fires, or pretended it was a torch instead; if he refused to smell the smoke, and the blood…if he did all those things, he could almost pretend he was a boy again, not a man stained with the blood of his enemies. Maker, what he wouldn't give to be back in that abandoned portion of the castle, traipsing after his brother, the worries of war an indistinct concept, one that seemed exciting rather than terrifying.

He focused on just moving forward. A glance behind confirmed that his mother was still with him. Nu trotted beside him, a low growl emanating constantly from his throat. Aedan's ears buzzed, and he wasn't sure if it was from an overusage of health poultices, or just a refusal to believe that what he was seeing and experiencing was actually real.

The door to the kitchen loomed before him. He hesitated for only an instant, then pushed it open. It cracked into the stone wall, and a small curse left Mum's lips. Whether it was an admonishment for his carelessness or simply a reaction to being startled, Aedan didn't know. He didn't ask.

Behind the door, the darkened kitchen bore the scars of battle. A servant lay on the floor, gutted, a cast-iron frying pan near her outstretched hand. Had she managed to give one of Howe's men a headache? Another servant sat slumped against the wall; hope jolted through Aedan for a moment until he saw the enormous black puddle surrounding the elven man. As they moved into the kitchen, they saw additional bodies of defenseless servants, who had picked up what tools they had at their fingertips to try to survive.

And then, near the door to the larder, Nan.

Aedan stared down at the body of his nanny, the lines of her face as familiar to him as his mother's. In many ways, she had been like a grandparent to him—a grandparent quick to smack his head in rebuttal of a comment, or twist his ear to get his attention, but he'd loved her, damn it all to the Fade. _This_ was not how she should have ended her service to his family. She should have had a life of leisure, servants doting on _her _for a change.

_Flames. Flames, flames, _flames.

"Aedan, we must go." His mother's hand was gentle on his arm, but insistent.

Aedan swallowed and nodded, turning from the death that littered the kitchen floor. He should be numb, shouldn't he? By now? And yet, the sight of Nan, her throat cleaved by a bloodless gash, just added to the anger bubbling at the core of him.

He moved into the larder a second ahead of his mother, but they both spotted his father at the same time. Blood covered, a pool of the stuff expanding around him, Da still managed to inject a hint of humor into his voice.

"There…you both are. I was…wondering…when you'd get here."

Mum called out Bryce's name as they raced to his side, but Aedan said nothing. Words choked him, emotions threatened to drown him. Only one word sounded in his mind.

_No. No, no, no, no!_

"Maker's blood!" Mum gasped as she fell to her knees beside her husband. "What's happened?"

"Howe's men," Da supplied brokenly. "Found me first. Almost…did me in right there."

The chorus of denial in Aedan's mind was replaced with _why_. Why was Howe doing this? He and the Couslands had always been friends, always! And this…he repaid Bryce's friendship like this?

Aedan pushed the need for answers aside. It didn't matter, not now. There would be time for asking questions once they were free of the castle, once they'd bandaged Da's wounds.

"We need to get you out of here," he said, his voice strangled.

Da shook his head, his eyes full of sorrow and pain. "No, pup, I…I won't survive the standing, I think."

_No, no, no…_It couldn't be true. It couldn't be true, damn it.

"Get up." Aedan's breath hitched as the emotions he was trying to control surged so close to the surface. "Get up and let's go."

"Oh, Aedan." Tears had gathered in Bryce's eyes, glistening in the dim light of the pantry. "If only your will could make it so."

"Maker's ass, I'll drag you out if I have to!" Aedan cried, his emotions no longer contained. "Please, Da, _please_."

Bryce just shook his head as his body sagged. Eleanor peeled off her gloves and threaded her hands into his hair, across his forehead, as if skin-on-skin contact could anchor him here and keep him from the Maker's side.

"Once Howe's men break through the gate, they will find us," Mum said, her voice unwavering. Aedan looked over at her, unsurprised to see the tears in her eyes, even if they weren't reflected in her words. "We must go!"

"Someone…" Da seemed to struggle for breath, and focus. His eyes narrowed on Aedan, and Aedan knew…he _knew_that his father had told the truth. He was dying. Maker, oh Maker, he was dying.

"Someone…must reach Fergus," Bryce continued, his voice growing weaker. "Tell him what has happened."

The buzzing that had invaded Aedan's ears earlier was back. _This can't be real, this can't be real._He swallowed, glancing down…only to note that the pool of blood surrounding his father had increased, edging toward his knees.

It was real. All of it, all of it was real.

"We must take vengeance," Aedan declared, his eyes meeting his father's once more.

"Yes," Bryce agreed. "Vengeance."

"Bryce, no!" Mum shook her head, disbelief and denial coloring her tone. "The servants' passage is right here. We can flee together, find you healing magic—"

"The castle is surrounded, love." He lifted a hand, but it didn't have the strength to reach Eleanor's face. She caught it, and brought it to her cheek. "I cannot make it."

"I'm afraid the teyrn is correct."

Aedan glanced up from his parents to see the Grey Warden, Duncan, stride into the room. The man's armor was blood-stained, smears across his face, but he was whole. Aedan shoved to his feet, confronting the man before he could reach his father.

"Why didn't you protect him?" he demanded. Anger thundered through him, anger at Howe, and his father, at himself, all focused on a convenient outlet. "Why didn't you protect him?"

"Aedan," Mum said sharply. He ignored her, too focused on the Warden. Da's groaned, "Pup," caught his attention, though, and Aedan dropped back to his side.

"Howe's men have not yet discovered this exit," Duncan said, as though Aedan had not confronted him, "but they surround the castle. Getting past will be difficult." He knelt next to Bryce, his eyes roaming over the teyrn. Aedan watched the man's face closely, and saw the confirmation flicker across his expression.

The Teyrn of Highever would die, no matter what they did.

_Vengeance_. That's what was needed now.

"We make Howe pay," Aedan growled.

"Not here," Duncan said. "There are too many men, and they seem as willing to kill me as they are all of you. Flight is the only option."

"Whatever is to be done now, it must be quick! They are coming."

Aedan glanced at the door, a reflexive response to his mother's words. He could hear the shouting in the distance, words indistinguishable but the urgency clear.

"Duncan! You are under no obligation to me, but I beg you. Take my wife and son to safety."

"No, Da, I can stay and fight—"

"I will, your lordship, but…" The Warden hesitated for only a breath before continuing. "I fear I must ask for something in return."

"Anything!"

Aedan shook his head. "No, Da…"

"What is happening here pales in comparison to the evil now loose in this world," Duncan stated. "I came to your castle seeking a recruit. The darkspawn threat demands that I leave with one."

Da sagged again, then nodded. "I…I understand."

Understand? What did he understand? "Are you talking about me? You want me to be your recruit?"

"Aedan…"

He shook his head, his eyes narrowed. "No! I won't do it. My duty is here, to defend my family and my home, not to run off to fight monsters!"

"Pup, please…"

"No, Da! Don't ask this of me. I won't go. I need to stay here and fight!"

"_Aedan!_"

The strength in Bryce's voice had Aedan's mouth snapping shut on additional protests. He clenched his teeth, his eyes swinging from his father's dimming gaze, to the unsympathetic eyes of the Warden, to his mother's bowed head.

"I will take the teyrna and your son to Ostagar, where we will inform Fergus and the king what happened. Then…your son joins the Grey Wardens." Duncan proclaimed it like a noble passing sentence. How dare he demand anything of a dying man? How dare he?

"As long as justice comes to Howe…" Bryce nodded. "I agree."

"_No!_" Aedan scrambled closer to his father. "No, Da, my place is here. With you and Mum. In Highever. I won't go, Maker damn it."

"Our family always does our duty first." Bryce's hand rose to cup Aedan's cheek and Aedan mimicked his mother's action of a few moments before, grabbing it and pulling it to him. "The darkspawn _must_be defeated. You must go. For your own sake and for Ferelden's."

"Da…" Aedan's jaw flexed as his eyes burned, his throat clogged. "Don't ask this of me. I can't…I can't…" He gritted his teeth harder, determination entering his gaze. "I _won't_go. Grey Wardens are warriors of legend. With Duncan's help, we could fight them off, we could ensure we all survive…"

"Oh, pup." The tears threatening in Bryce's eyes finally spilled, mingling with the blood splattered across his face.

"If you will not come with me willingly, I'm afraid I must invoke the Right of Conscription." Duncan's voice was as hard as the granite cliffs of Highever, his voice as cold as the wind that whistled over them. "Fighting would be futile. A useless sacrifice, when there are greater evils in this world—"

"Greater evils?" Aedan turned on the Warden, about to unleash his anger once more, when a huge crash sounded from elsewhere in the castle.

"The gates. They've broken through the gates," Eleanor breathed. Her gaze sought out Bryce's, her face softening as she looked at the man she loved. "You're sure, Bryce?"

"Our son will not die of Howe's treachery," the teyrn declared. "He will live and make his mark on the world."

Mum turned to Aedan, her face set. "Darling, go with Duncan."

"Eleanor…"

"Shh, Bryce." She laid a finger against his lips, a sad smile curving hers. "My place is at your side, to death and beyond, and I won't abandon you. I'll kill every bastard who comes in that door, to buy them time."

No, not the two of them. "Mum, please…"

"Go, Aedan." Her eyes were clear, firm, her resolve unmistakable.

A tug on his arm. He jerked the limb out of Duncan's grasp and edged closer to his parents. No, he wasn't ready. He couldn't do this, he couldn't leave them. He needed to stay, he needed to protect them…

"Boy, we must go."

"Sod off!" Tears choked his words and he reached forward to grab onto his Mum and Da.

"Aedan…" Bryce's voice had grown so much weaker. Blood lapped against Aedan's knees, staining the metal. "Go, pup. Warn your brother."

"I love you." The words jolted out of him, breathless, not enough, not nearly enough.

"Then live, Aedan. Live." Eleanor pressed a kiss to his cheek, then pushed his shoulder, encouraging him to move.

"Tell Fergus we love you both," Bryce gasped. "You do us proud. Maker guide you, son."

A strong, unyielding hand fastened on his arm and yanked him to his feet. "We must move _now_," Duncan ordered. He shoved Aedan toward the servants' exit, his motions harsh and unsympathetic. Nu trotted ahead, looking back uncertainly, but even the mabari seemed to realize the futility of staying. "Go. _Run!_"

Aedan staggered backwards, not wanting to lose sight of his parents just yet. He couldn't do this. He couldn't leave them. His feet slowed, paused.

"Damn it."

Duncan's hand fastened on the collar of his arm and jerked him forward. Unlike before, however, he didn't release his grasp, but pulled Aedan along with him until the darkness of the servants' exit obscured all view of the larder they'd left behind.

The life Howe had destroyed.


End file.
